Lipstick Love Letters
by britishtoatea
Summary: There was a world beyond the mirrors. Arthur never expected to see into another world, nor to fall in love with his other self. ENGLANDCEST 1Px2P England
1. It Begins

The first time Arthur noticed something strange was happening was when he saw the lipstick message on his armoire mirror. Scrawled in fancy cursive, the message read, "I've been watching you, Darling." His hair had stood on end as an eerie chill ran down his spine. His first reaction had been to grab something, ANYTHING, to wipe the offending message away, to try to forget it had ever happened. His dirty boxers where what he grabbed first and he furiously scrubbed the message on the mirror as fear gripped him. It wouldn't come off. He touched the mirror cautiously, almost as if it would bite him, and ran his finger along the message. Another shiver of fear. The message was on the other side of the mirror…

In the days following what he had dubbed as "The Lipstick Message,"(which had mysteriously vanished of its own accord) he began to notice other strange things about the mirrors in his home. Things he had never before noticed. The mirror in his bathroom, for example, reflected things in off colours. His bathroom walls were not pink… But the reflection in his mirror said otherwise.

He began to study his mirrors, even going so far as to purchase new mirrors to add to his home so he could observe them no matter which room he had decided to occupy. It didn't take him long to realize that his mirrors were showing him something… else. He was looking into another world. A world that was similar to his own, with small, subtle differences. The rooms were painted differently, but where the same size. The furniture lay in the same positions, yet were of a… prissier model. It almost seemed as if he were looking into the home of a young girl.

The messages started becoming a regular part of his life soon after that. He'd awake to see "Good morning, Darling~" Or "I do hope you had pleasant dreams," Scrawled into his bedroom mirror. He learned to ignore them, until they began to show up in other places throughout his home. He suddenly wished he hadn't purchased so many mirrors… The messages were everywhere, always in perfect cursive, wishing him well or finding fault with something he had done that his mysterious observer found to be improper.

"Stop Cursing, dearie, you sound like a Barbarian." Was written across a mirror after an argument with Alfred, which only caused more rage to rise within Arthur. He raised his middle finger to the mirror in his anger before stomping away, only to be face to face with another message. "Rude!" was all it read.

It was another month or so after that that he finally began to write back to his anonymous stalker. He had been inspired, really, while at the market. He had glanced down the makeup isle and spotted the lipstick. He had bought it, a deep shade of purple, on a whim really. This was madness after all. He was going to attempt to communicate with… the thing in his mirrors.

His first message to the other side was a mistake. He wrote, "Who are you?" before going to bed. He awoke, almost running to the mirror to see a reply just beneath his reading. "I can't read that, you silly, you've written it all backwards." Backwards? Arthur frowned as he tried to make out what this meant. He'd written in perfectly normal… It hit him suddenly. He had to write in a mirror image. He erased his previous message and tried again, attempting to mirror his handwriting. Again, "Who are you?"

His answer didn't come until a few hours later, after he'd nearly forgotten about it. He walked into his bedroom intent upon doing his laundry when in his mirror he saw it. He SAW the words being written, on the other side of the mirror, by HIMSELF. He dropped his laundry basket as he threw himself in front of the mirror, staring as this lighter haired other self waved slowly, and wrote. "Oh Tiddlywinks, it seems you've caught me."

Arthur was in shock. He shakily grabbed his own writing instrument, his purple lipstick, and wrote. "Who are you?" Again. The response from his almost mirror image. "Arthur of course. Who did you think I was?"

After this, Arthur removed the mirror from his bedroom. He was unsure how to handle this phenomenon presented to him. He locked himself in his basement as he poured over his books, trying to find some sort of explanation as to what was going on. His best guess was parallel universes. He wondered how long this other him had been watching him through his mirrors, and why he had finally decided to speak.

The messages never stopped appearing on his mirrors, and he tried to ignore them. This… parallel Arthur however, made that impossible. He would follow Arthur around the house, through the mirrors and poke at the glass for his attention. Finally, he decided, it was time to have a chat with this strangely coloured version of himself.

He took a large, full body mirror and propped it up against the wall of his sitting room, and sat in front of it with a newly acquired dry-erase marker. He tapped at the glass, wondering if the other could hear it on his side, and he was rewarded as the other man came prancing into view, wearing an apron over his oddly coloured clothes. Arthur motioned for him to sit, and lifted his marker, writing, "We need to talk."

His parallel self plopped in front of the mirror, a big smile on his face and motioned with his hands for Arthur to continue. Arthur lifted his marker again, and wrote, "How long have you been watching me?" He was answered with a cheeky smile and a shrug from this other self. He wiped the question away. "Why have you been watching me?" He was a bit surprised to see Arthur 2 jump up at that and scamper out of the room, only to return moments later with his red lipstick. "You're dreadfully cute~"

Arthur was quick to respond in his sloppy backwards writing, "I am NOT cute." His other self simply laughed. Arthur couldn't help but note how strange it was to see someone laugh silently. It was like watching the telly with the volume turned all the way down. He scowled. What was so funny anyway? His mirror self leaned forward and winked, and Arthur couldn't help but blush. Just what was he playing at?

The lightered haired man smirked as he lifted his lipstick and replied with a big red heart, before jumping up and scampering out of sight. Arthur stared, dumbfounded at the mirror for what felt like hours, yet his double never returned.


	2. A Silly Game

AN: Oh dear me, thank you everyone. I only just posted this today and I've already gotten so much love! I hope I can continue to please my readers! Reviews and critiques are always appreciated!

CH 2 (2P POV)

Oh this game was so much fun! It had been a stroke of genius, really, to begin this teasing of his other self. He'd found so much enjoyment and pleasure from teasing his double across the mirror. It was so easy, too. Almost anything could set that man off. Simple things, from baking tips to remarks on his eyebrows to casual winks would set the other off in ways that were indescribably amusing.

In the weeks since he'd started this game, his other self and he had had quite a few conversations between their mirrors, written in backwards scrawl about many things, none which were very interesting, until today. His other self had written, with a scowl on his face, "I'm calling you Oliver."

Well! This was interesting, although a bit rude. "Oh you silly, My name is Arthur. I thought I told you~" What on Earth was his double thinking? He couldn't simply change someone's name on a whim! He flashed his mundane self a slightly sadistic smile as he watched him write a response.

"We can't both be Arthur… It's confusing." Well! He supposed that made sense. And Oliver was an awfully cute name. He leaned closer to the mirror, grinning like the madman he was and winked, before writing in his lipstick, "Oh Of course, love. Anything for you."

His other self, Arthur, had smiled triumphantly. Oh what a silly cookie he was. Did he honestly think he was in control of this situation? "Oliver" inwardly chuckled. Arthur certainly was a silly one. He had a hard time understanding what made his double tick. He was terribly grouchy, rarely smiled and seemed to be constantly on edge. So much different than himself.

He thought back fondly to the many small conversations he'd had with Arthur. It seemed as if more and more everyday his other half would try to get his attention. There were messages left for him from Arthur randomly throughout the day, simple messages really, such as hello. Sometimes he would respond, other times he would act as if he'd never even noticed. It never failed to anger Arthur when "Oliver" would simply ignore him. Oh the joys of teasing.

It was a complete accident, really, when he discovered he had the ability to travel through the mirror into Arthur's world. He had been in the middle of writing another message, just before bed time. A simple goodnight message, when he had leaned his forehead against the cool glass and felt a slight tingle against his skin. Well, that certainly was interesting, wasn't it?

He pulled away and placed his hand on the glass, focusing on that strange tingling sensation and pressed forward. He was a bit shocked to see his hand merge through the glass and appear through the other side. This certainly brought his game to a whole new level.

The first time he entered Arthur's world, he had done it under cover of darkness, when he knew the other man was fast asleep. He explored Arthur's home, and found it rather interesting. His counterpart had many secrets he was attempting to hide in the various nooks and crannies of his mundane home.

Oliver had found it most amusing to find a stash of love letters from Francis stashed deep in his desk. He had to admit, he was a bit jealous. _His _Francis never sent him love letters… Oh Pooh, that simply wasn't fair! He read each letter carefully, slowly deciphering the French in his head. Why would his other self hide such precious mementos anyway?

Oliver plodded around Arthur's home trying to find more interesting things about the man. Oh if only he could search the bedroom.~ He was certain there would be much more interesting tidbits there! But alas! He would have to wait for a day when Arthur was out for that adventure, wouldn't he?

He focused his attention mostly on Arthur's study. He knew the man did most of his work there. Perhaps he'd find other fun things there besides the love letters. A little digging and he found that he was correct in his assumption. Hidden tucked away behind the bookshelf was a photo album. Oh what fun!

He cracked the book open, a silly smile plastered on his face. His smile quickly became a deep blush at what he had discovered. He tossed the album aside and covered his mouth with his hands, his blush a deep crimson before his curiosity got the better of him and he pulled it back into his lap and opened it once more. His heart pounded in his ears as he stared at the provocative photos in the album.

Who would have thought that his double was so…. _Dirty…._ Oliver licked his lips as he slowly flipped through Arthur's album. Photos of his sex life. Hundreds of them. Oliver had never suspected that his… boring other self could be so… kinky in the bedroom. He felt his pants begin to tighten uncomfortably.

"Oh bother… This is troublesome…" He licked his lips before closing the book and tucking it under his arm. This would prove to be… excellent reading material for later… With cheeks still a bright red he turned and shuffled uncomfortably back to the mirror he had come through. He wasn't fond of the way his pants rubbed him, and he inwardly cursed. "Oh dilly-dolly… this is simply dreadful…"

He pressed his hand against the glass and in a moment he was returned to his own world. He quickly set the album aside and pulled his shirt off as he made his way to his bathroom. He had a… problem that needed to be taken care of.

He sighed as he shut the bathroom door and slowly undid his belt, trembling softly as the fabric of his pants rubbed against him. Oh how troublesome this was. It had been such a long time since he had indulged himself in such a way. He undid his pants slowly, moaning quietly as he glared down at his erection. "You do like to pop up at unfortunate moments, don't you?"

He took his length in his hand and gave it a small squeeze before reaching over and turning on the shower. He stepped in and groaned as the cold water rushed over his body. Well, that certainly took care of that problem.


	3. The game intensifies

Ch 3 (1P pov)

Strange things had been happening in his house lately… Arthur frowned as he noticed another one of his tea cozies was missing. What the hell was going on here? First he meets a man in his mirror, who was quite nice to talk to by the way, and then his things started going missing. Little things that most people wouldn't even notice. Things that were… moved, ever so slightly out of their places.

He knew it wasn't Francis… that man couldn't sneak into his home and NOT try to get in his pants, and it was impossible for Alfred to go anywhere without being heard a mile away. No… something strange was going on in his home. Perhaps Oliver had seen something…

Arthur sat in front of his mirror, waiting for Oliver to come into view. He didn't realize how often he found himself doing this, waiting for Oliver. He never really thought about why he wanted to talk to his double, it was just… something he'd began liking to do. Although it irritated the piss out of him that Oliver had this tendency to ignore him, to be missing for hours at a time. He couldn't help but wonder where he'd gone and what kept him so busy.

He had often caught glimpses of Oliver scampering around his home in a rather excited manner before he disappeared. Wherever he was going, he certainly seemed excited about it. Arthur sighed as he opened his marker and wrote. "I wish you were here." He erased it quickly, a blush on his face. Where the hell had that come from? He had meant to just meant to write a simple hello.

He shook his head as he wrote just that, "Hello." And waited… and waited… and waited. Where was he? Arthur frowned and tapped at the glass harshly with the lid of his marker. He was relieved to see his paler haired counterpart poke his head through the door on the other side of the mirror with a confused look on his face, one that quickly turned to a smile as he hopped in the room and strolled over to the mirror.

Arthur swore, that man was always smiling, always cheerful. He wondered what he was so happy about. He was jerked from his thoughts as he watched Oliver reply, "Good morning, darling." Arthur blushed and Oliver simply smiled a cute smile. Arthur looked away, trying to hide his blush before responding. "Have you seen anything strange in my home? Things have been going missing." He watched as Oliver read the message and pressed a finger to his lips as he seemed to ponder the question. The answer he received was a simple shake of the head.

Arthur sighed. He swore, sometimes he really thought Oliver was just fucking with him. "You're certain?" He responded, with an eyebrow raised. Oliver simply laughed. Arthur frowned. He had a suspicion that his double knew something. "Please. Who has been taking my things."

Oliver's smile grew larger, almost teasingly so. His response, in that god awful lipstick, "Only Arthur." The fuck did that mean, Only Arthur? He knew for certain that he wasn't misplacing things. Well, Perhaps Oliver simply hadn't seen anything. He sighed, disappointed. He had really wanted to figure this entire thing out.

He looked back to the mirror and raised an eyebrow. There was Oliver, drawing red hearts all over the glass. He blushed, a deep red. Didn't his other self know what hearts meant? Perhaps he was simply overly affectionate. He turned away, trying to hide his flushed cheeks, only to hear tapping at the glass. He glanced over at Oliver, who had a slight pouty frown on his face. What was he trying to get at?

Oliver's red lipstick hearts made Arthur's heart flutter, and he wasn't sure why. There was nothing special about him. He'd never even really talked to him. He knew next to nothing about Oliver, other than the fact that he existed. He glanced at Oliver's pouty look and sighed. He picked up his marker and drew a heart. There… Oliver was smiling again.

Arthur took his shirt and cleared away his side of the mirror. Now was as good a time as any to try to get to know Oliver better. After all, it wasn't incredibly often he had the other's attention. "Where do you disappear to so often?" He wrote. He noted how much better he was getting at writing backwards.

Oliver's reaction to his question was puzzling. He had raised his finger, in a "wait here" gesture and darted off. He did a lot of that, Arthur noted. Darting off seemed to be one of his things. That and… what Arthur could only describe as prancing. Oliver had a way about him. He moved differently. He never seemed to have an off day, unlike himself, who was ready to simply end the world as soon as he slid out of bed in the morning. No… Oliver was different.

Arthur was ripped from his thoughts when Oliver finally returned to the mirror. Arthur's jaw dropped as he stared with disbelief, shock and slight arousal. Oliver stood before him, one hand on his hip, the other holding a fan to his chin. Long black gloves cupped his slender arms up to his biceps, and black tights clung deliciously to the curves of his legs. The dress was clinging to Oliver's form perfectly, it must have been tailor made to fit him. The skirt came down to his knees and billowed. Sweet Unicorn Mayonnaise… Oliver was wearing a cabaret dress…

Arthur had to look away. His cheeks were burning. A rough rapping at the glass on his mirror brought his attention back to the mirror. "You need to relax." Oliver had written.

"You're wearing a dress" He responded, averting his gaze again. On the other side of the mirror, Oliver was smiling and wiping away his previous messages, his red lipstick in his hand. Arthur glanced back at him in time to see him lean forward, far too seductively for his own good. "I like to look nice once in a while, love."

Arthur didn't want to tell him that he didn't look just nice. He looked like sex on legs in that outfit. The skirt swished and bobbed in all the right ways as his double moved. He licked his lips, wetting them with his tongue as he shifted, uncomfortably, trying to ease the stress in his pants.

Oliver was smirking at him. "Shall I dance for you, Arthur?"

He couldn't stop his head from nodding or his eyes from being drawn to Oliver's hips. He watched, those sinful hips move to music he couldn't hear. It didn't matter. He wouldn't be paying attention to it anyway. What he wouldn't give to be able to slide his hands along those hips…

He shifted again, just to relieve the pressure as he stared at Oliver's form through the mirror. Oliver was watching him, looking straight into his eyes as he danced and Arthur had a feeling that he knew what this was doing to him.

One of Oliver's hands had strayed to the end of his skirt and he lifted it, slowly, revealing so much more of his thigh and those tights, still smirking. Arthur's length twitched at the sight. He bit down on his lip and looked away from the mirror. Jesus Christ. What did Oliver gain by teasing him like this?

He finally looked back to the mirror, only to find Oliver sitting in front of it, smiling innocently, as if he had no clue that Arthur was suffering with an engorged member and a rapid pounding in his chest. That fucker…

"Do I dance well?" Arthur couldn't help but scoff. How was he supposed to answer that? A million thoughts raced through his mind as an idea struck him. He was certain Oliver had done this on purpose. So… he'd turn the tables. Perhaps the only way to take back his own sanity was to fight fire with fire.

He smiled his best smile at Oliver, and picked up his marker as he stood. He drew a heart before motioning to the hardness in his pants. A surprised look quickly came over Oliver's face before his double blushed. Hah! Take that, Oliver! Arthur smirked and let his fingers make quick work of his belt, undoing it and ripping it out of the loops of his pants. Oliver's eyes were wide as Arthur stared into them, rubbing himself through his pants. The other had told him he needed to relax… So what if this wasn't what he'd meant.

Arthur had always had a streak of exhibitionism in him. He ran a hand down his chest, still gazing at Oliver's beautiful blue eyes through the mirror, his other hand slowly unzipping the zipper of his pants. A sigh of relief broke through his lips as his length was released from the confines of its clothed prison. He let his pants fall and pool around his feet as he palmed himself through the fabric of his boxers. He wanted Oliver to watch. He wanted him to feel just as uncomfortable as he had felt a few moments ago.

Arthur's hand slid down into his boxers to take hold of his length. Oliver could do nothing but watch, wide eyed as his double pleasured himself. Arthur briefly wondered what the man was thinking about this, but quickly decided he didn't care. Oliver was free to leave if he wanted to.

Arthur moaned, loud and hungry as he slid his boxers down his hips, pooling down with his pants. He took his length in his hand, stroking it slowly, enjoying the feel of his fingers closed around it as he leaned forward with his marker. "You did this to me." He let the marker drop to the floor as he pressed his palm flat against the mirror. It was as close to Oliver as he could get, and he knew it.

Oliver hadn't moved since Arthur started, except to bring his hand up to his mouth. Arthur noted that he loved how the other man bit down on his finger. He let his mind wander; thinking about what it would feel like to be that finger, pressed tight against Oliver's lips. He stroked himself faster, letting his thumb circle the sensitive head.

The blush that was creeping down Oliver's neck only excited him further. He gave himself a tight squeeze, as he rested his forehead against the glass. How he wished he could reach through the mirror and grab the light haired man on the other side, pull him close and ravage him. His free hand fumbled to find the marker. "I want you." He squeezed himself again, drawing his hand up and down his length in a firm, steady pace, his eyes devouring Oliver like a hungry animal.

His breath was fogging the glass as he panted heavily, his body trembling with arousal. Oliver's face was a delicious shade of red, his blue eyes opened wide. Arthur stared into them, getting lost in those endless blue oceans as his hand teased his weeping length.

He saw Oliver shift on the other side of the mirror, and he couldn't help but notice the bulge that was poking up through the fabric of the dress. He licked is lips, his body trembling as he let his mind imagine what was hidden beneath that cloth, what it would look like to see Oliver's pale hands lifting that skirt, to see him touching himself.

He felt himself getting close to the edge. He shakily brought his marker back up to the glass, sloppily wrote, "Oliver." He moaned, loudly, unashamed as he finally hit his peak, his cum dripping out over his fingers. He kept his eyes locked on Oliver, afraid that if he blinked, the other would disappear.

He caught his breath, slowly and wet his lips again, smiling at Oliver as he lifted his hand and drew a heart with his cum. Oliver stood on the other side and slowly, shyly reached forward, running his finger on his side of the glass, over that milky white heart before he slowly turned and left the room.

AN: This author would appreciate any constructive criticism on her works! Also, ideas are appreciated for future chapters~ Thank you for reading~


	4. How Embarrassing

Ch4. 2P POV

What had just happened? Oliver wasn't certain. He had… seen Arthur touch himself. Touched himself because of him… He had caused his parallel self to… have to do that. It was dirty… It was vulgar… But… at the same time it had caused a great discomfort under his dress. One that was aching, throbbing to be taken care of.

He had left Arthur and retreated to the safety of his bathroom, the door locked tightly behind him. He pressed his back to the door, his chest rising and falling heavily as he tried to catch his breath. He didn't think this game was fun anymore… His fists clenched, unclenched and clenched again at his sides as he fought to get the images of what he had just witnessed out of his head.

Arthur had touched himself. It was on repeat in his brain, the look on his doubles face as he came, the milky white heart on the mirror… He trembled as he slid to the floor, his blue eyes opened wide in mortification. His double… Arthur… had… wanted him… sexually… he had wanted to… Oliver couldn't even finish that thought.

The erection under his dress was throbbing. His whole body screamed at him to touch it, to stroke it and relieve the discomfort burning inside him. But… that was so… dirty… He needed a shower… yes… that would help… a nice… cold… long shower…

He hurriedly began to undress, his dress slipped off his slender frame easily enough. His tights… not so much. Oh why had he elected for hoes instead of thigh highs? Why did his erection have to be so… hard inside the nylon? A shaky moan bubbled from his throat as he slowly worked the nylon from his body. It pulled at him teasingly, cupped him tightly and oh…. His cock popped up, hard as it was finally freed from its prison.

A hand was wrapped around his weeping erection before he even had time to think about stopping it. His grip on himself was awkward. His motions were sloppy, uncoordinated. It wasn't as if he hadn't done this before… It just wasn't an activity he indulged in very often. Oh it had been so long… his breath was shaky, heavy as he clenched his eyes closed, just let himself be overtaken in the feeling of his hand working his hardened length. It wouldn't be long. He was already feeling that heat coiling in his belly.

Arthur was running through his mind, the look on his face as he had… as he'd… Oh dear he was close… Just a little… He squeezed himself a bit, cried out as he finally reached his peak, and spilled himself into his hand. The relief that washed over him was more than welcome.

He relaxed back against his bathroom door, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He really needed a bath… a nice bubble bath… with extra bubbles… needed to think… Just what had he gotten himself into?

His shenanigans had never caused him… problems like this before… He sat there, let his heartbeat slow back to normal and his breathing slow to a more comfortable pace before he kicked his hoes the rest of the way off his legs. He groped for the bathroom counter, used it as leverage to stand and there… watching him from his own bathroom mirror was Arthur.

Oliver stumbled back, his hand over his mouth and his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. Arthur was smirking at him from behind the mirror, and it was obvious that he had seen the whole thing.

Oliver's eyes were wide as he watched Arthur write to him, the other's green eyes gleaming with smugness. "You put on a good show."

Oliver didn't know what to do with himself. He was mortified. He'd been caught indulging himself and there was no denying that it had been to the thought of Arthur. There was no talking himself out of this. This game wasn't fun at all anymore…

He couldn't even run, there were mirrors all over his home, and even more in Arthur's, he knew. He'd snuck into the other's home enough in the dark of the night to know that there was no way he could escape Arthur. His game had turned on him, that was for certain. He could do nothing but stand there, eyes wide, and stare back at Arthur through the mirror.

Arthur's eyes traveled down his body, slowly, and then worked back up to his face. What was he supposed to do? He was frozen in place, too embarrassed to move even to cover himself. It wouldn't matter, Arthur had seen everything anyway. He'd never felt so… exposed in his life…

"We should do this again sometime." Another message, an even bigger smirk as Oliver watched Arthur erase his previous messages, only to write begin a new message. "Don't hide from me next time. I like watching." And then he was gone.

Bubble bath… he'd intended on taking a bubble bath… He stood there a few moments longer, tried to compose himself, forced himself to stop thinking about Arthur… Arthur touching himself, Arthur watching him, Arthur _thinking_ about him like that. And… that photo album he had found during his first visit to Arthur's house suddenly popped into his mind. Full of Arthur.

He turned on the tub, adjusted the water temperature to his liking, put down the plug and poured in his bubbles. Nothing was going to take his bath from him… Not even Arthur… After all that, he needed to relax, he needed to soak away his embarrassment. He needed to think of a way to… to get out of this game he'd started.

The tub was filled quickly enough and Oliver was eager to slip inside, to hide himself under the bubbles, only his nose and top of his head poking out. He'd almost added too much. He'd have to be more careful. He didn't want a house full of bubbles. But… Back to his current problem… Arthur…

How could he ever face his counterpart again after all that? How could he even dream of facing him after he'd seen… what he'd seen? Oliver wasn't certain. He sank back into the tub, under the water for a moment before popping back up for air. There WAS no fixing this… none that he could think of. He'd just have to face Arthur, like a man. There was no escaping him, really. There was no place in his home safe from Arthur's prying eyes.

He'd just have to accept his fate… Oliver for the first time in a very long while, regretted his tomfoolery.


	5. Something New

CH 5 1P POV

(A bit of 2Pfruk in this chapter, Arthur being a voyeur, and some major jealousy)

Arthur hadn't seen much of Oliver after that fateful night 3 weeks ago. It was a pity, really. Arthur had come to enjoy the other's company. And that cute blush whenever they did interact with each other. Yes, he'd become rather fond of his double on the other side of the mirror. Of course, he'd never let the pink haired man know this. No, this was his little secret.

The moments they had shared lately had been brief and awkward, his other self blushing and making excuses to leave rather quickly. It was disappointing. Arthur had hoped for a repeat performance of that night, had hoped to see more of his freckled other self pleasing himself, or dancing for him.

Today was different. He'd seen a lot of Oliver today. His freckled counterpart was frantically cleaning his home, darting from room to room, oblivious of Arthur watching him. It was almost as if he was having her majesty over for tea. Arthur had never seen him so frantic.

He was unsure what the deal was. Oliver's house always looked to be perfectly in order; even now it seemed to be perfectly clean. Arthur had come to the conclusion long ago that Oliver must have been some sort of neat freak. He didn't understand what the fuss was about as he watched Oliver scurry about, in that stupid pink apron.

He followed him, from the living room to the kitchen. Ah, he was baking a cake as well. That wasn't out of the ordinary at all. Oliver was always baking. He must be having someone over. Arthur rested his forehead against the glass of the mirror, took in the image of his double scurrying throughout his home. How cute would it be to have him on this side of the glass, doing the same thing. Yes… Oliver would be a cute housewife, that was for sure.

Arthur's cheeks turned pink at the thought. Where had that come from? He'd never thought of Oliver that way before. He turned away from the mirror, glanced about his home, so similar to Oliver's, yet so different. Messier, not as tidy, but homey.

A movement caught his eye in the mirror. He turned back, saw his double panicking even more, looking back and forth at the invisible messes in his home before hurrying to his front door. So… he had a visitor? Arthur mused that it must be someone awfully important to his counterpart, to have been so frantically tidying up.

Green eyes widened as he took in just who was visiting Oliver. He hadn't given much thought to the other people in Oliver's world or what they would be like. He certainly never expected to see Francis at Oliver's door. Arthur took in the other Francis slowly, scoffed at his disheveled appearance. Did he EVER brush his hair?

He was even more shocked when Oliver took this man's hand, smiled at him so welcomingly and pulled him inside. He wished he could hear what they were talking about. Francis' double looked to be completely uninterested in what Oliver was saying, was lounging back on the pastel pink sofa like he owned the place.

Another scoff as he watched the unshaven man put his feet up on Oliver's coffee table. His Francis would never get away with that, and Oliver looked mildly annoyed about it, but said nothing. He was heading to the kitchen it seemed. Well, that gave Arthur some time to study this… new Francis a bit.

His hair was messy, unbrushed, and face unshaven. He dressed nothing like the Francis he knew, much more casual and almost as if he didn't give two shits what anyone thought of him. Arthur leaned closer to the mirror, frowned. Just who the hell was this guy?

Oliver was back before long, a plate in his dainty little hands, cake it looked like. Other Francis seemed indifferent to it, but he took it and ate it nonetheless. Oliver was fidgeting about beside him, and other Francis kept giving him amused looks out of the corner of his eye. And his fists clenched when other Francis rested a hand on Oliver's thigh.

Arthur didn't like this one bit. Something was up here, something was going on between the two of them. How dare that scruffled, cheese eating, frog faced, surrender monkey touch HIS Oliver? How DARE Oliver smile about it! His nails began to dig into his palms. It was obvious where this encounter was going.

Arthur felt wave after wave of jealousy wash over him as he watched Oliver climb onto the Frenchman's lap. They were kissing now, rough and wildly as their hands explored each other's bodies. What Arthur wouldn't have given to be in that Frog's place right now…

HE wanted to be the one groping that arse. HE wanted to be the one pulling off that stupid vest. HE wanted to be the one Oliver was rutting up against. It suddenly struck him how odd he was behaving about all of this. Why was he so jealous? It wasn't as if he cared about Oliver. Sure, he'd grown used to him, thought he was cute. Sure he had a great arse and a charming, bright eyed smile. He was annoying, always bothering him.

Then… why was he so upset as he watched the two bodies on the other end of the mirror rock against each other? Why did he want to smash through the glass and deck that French bastard in his teeth? Why did he want to rip Oliver off the other man's dick and show him who he REALLY belonged to? What? What was wrong with him tonight? Since when had he thought this way?

His thoughts were halted as his eyes locked with Oliver's, and a deep blush rose to his cheeks when his double gave him a smirk, licked his lips, and then continued to ride the Frenchman. Oliver knew. He knew something that Arthur didn't, and he was not going to let it stay that way.


	6. You're Mine

Chapter 6 2p pov

"Just who the fuck was that?" Was what Oliver was greeted with once Francis had finally gone home, after a quick peck on the cheek. Oliver had sent him with a doggy bag full of goodies. He wasn't surprised by the scribbled message on his mirror, not in the slightest. He'd expected it, in fact. He had planned this from the beginning, after all.

"That was Francis." In the pit of his stomach he felt a bit guilty, using his dear friend like that. Of course, he and Francis had done things like that in the past, for as long as he could remember, but he'd never before thought to use Francis in such a way. Francis had no idea that Oliver had desired his touch for anything other reason than their normal trysts.

Oliver watched Arthur angrily write a response. "I KNOW it was Francis. What the hell were you DOING with him?" Well. Rude… Arthur was always rude. Still… he felt a pull to be close to him.

"Are you jealous?" The blush that spread up on Arthur's cheeks made Oliver smirk, for the first time in a long while, it seemed he'd gained the upper hand in this little game of his. He'd never expected this. Never had he thought Arthur would be jealous of his best friend.

Arthur was looking down at something on the floor; Oliver idly wondered what it was. "You want me, don't you?" It was as obvious as day, from the way Arthur had glared through the mirror all while Francis was visiting, and how he blushed now. Arthur wanted him all to himself. Oh how delightful.

"I want you all to myself. I don't want anyone to fucking touch you." A pink brow raised in response to that. Well… that was a new development. He'd never expected such possessiveness from his double. What had he gotten himself into? Something in the back of his mind warned him that he was beginning to tread on dangerously thin ice.

A pink tongue darted out as Oliver wet his lips, leaned closer to the mirror. "Is that so? You want me all to yourself? You want to own me?" His seductive smirk was back, and any guilt he may have felt over using Francis was certainly gone now. "You want me to obey your every command and fall to my knees when you touch me?" He scrawled upon the mirror, before blowing Arthur a kiss.

He watched, a smug smile upon his face as Arthur answered him, with a simple, "Y E S" He leaned back, away from the mirror, grinned. So… that's what he wants… an obedient little slave… Well… Arthur would have to work for that, wouldn't he? He tilted his head to the side, leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the glass.

"Well… Master, what do you wish of me." Oliver would play along with him, give him a taste of what it was he wanted. Just this once. Arthur didn't have to tell him that he wanted him sexually, didn't have to ask him to undress. He undid his bowtie, set it aside carefully before slowly began to work at the buttons of his vest.

He could already see Arthur palming himself through his pants, a greedy expression in his eyes as he watched Oliver undress. It wasn't as embarrassing this time, not at all. Somewhere along the line their relationship had shifted into a sexual one, and Oliver no longer felt shy about it.

Arthur leaned forward, placed a palm against the cool glass of the mirror as he undid his pants. Oliver couldn't help but slow his movements, and he slowly slid out of his vest, tossed it to the side and repeated with his undershirt. Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he returned to the mirror, leaned forward, traced his tongue along the image of Arthur's fingers.

The moan that came from Arthur was visible through the glass, and Oliver didn't need to hear it to know it had been loud. Arthur was rapidly pumping himself now to the image of Oliver licking his fingers. Oliver could tell that the fantasy was running as wild through Arthur's mind as it was Oliver's.

Arthur's hand was pulled away from the mirror, and Oliver stared at him, a hungry look in his ocean blue eyes as he watched Arthur stand and shove his pants down his legs. It surprised him when Arthur moved closer to the mirror, pressed his cock head against it. He could feel Arthur's eyes on him, even though he couldn't see them from this angle, and so, to further the fantasy, he pressed his lips to the glass, let himself be get taken in by this erotic fantasy of Arthur's.

He could practically hear Arthur's heavy breathing, or was that his own? He wasn't certain anymore, as he used his tongue to tease the glass as Arthur rutted against the mirror. He was close enough to see beads of precum smearing against the glass. To Arthur, this was as close as he would ever get to Oliver, and Oliver relished the thought that Arthur was losing himself so fully.

Oliver's hand trailed down, and he took himself in his hand, squeezed himself tightly. This was turning out to be much more erotic than he had originally anticipated. Something about Arthur rutting up against the mirror, fantasizing about his cock in Oliver's mouth drove the pink haired double wild. It was getting harder and harder to keep from sliding through the mirror and taking Arthur into his mouth for real. Oh how he wanted to…

He couldn't focus anymore, and instead, he rested his forehead against the glass of the mirror, watched the cock on the other side pulse with Arthur's movements. Arthur's thrusts against the mirror were becoming hurried, uneven and he was leaking thick globs of precum onto the mirror. Oliver could tell he was close.

A fire was growing in his own belly, quickly threatening to rise up and explode at any moment. It wouldn't be long now, he knew as he gave himself a tight squeeze, tried to hold back his quickly approaching orgasm.

Arthur froze, and Oliver stared as thick ribbons of cum splashed upon the glass. Now he could let it go, he could erupt his seed into his hand. He pumped himself, let out a heavy groan as he spilled into his hand, panted heavily as his eyes fluttered closed. Arthur had slumped back down, was seated on the floor, fighting for his own breath.

Something had changed between them, something had shifted. Their game had become something more solid, more tangible to the both of them. Oliver pondered what this would mean for the both of them as he caught his breath, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Arthur back at the mirror, his dry erase marker in his hand. "You're mine."


	7. I'm Yours

A strange smell woke Arthur from a deep sleep. Something was baking… He hadn't left the oven on before bed. He hadn't cooked anything all day. Francis must be in his house again, teasing him with left over treats. He scowled, rolled over and hid his head under the pillow. He didn't want to have to deal with the pesky Frenchman this early in the morning.

Although… the scent of whatever was baking… Arthur took a good whiff of it. It smelled like cinnamon rolls. Sweet… delicious… cinnamon rolls. His belly growled and he threw his blanket to the floor in frustration. He'd give that wino bastard what for… After he ate his delicious food.

On went his pajama bottoms and a T-shirt. He wasn't about to let Francis see him in any sort of undress. The pervert wouldn't be able to keep his eyes off him and he wasn't in the mood for a fling with him. Although getting Oliver back would have been priceless to see.

No. He honestly just wanted Oliver. He wanted Oliver in his bed and no one else. It was like a foreign land waiting to be conquered, and it was ripe for the taking. Oliver was a challenge. He was the forbidden fruit that he desperately wanted to bite into. He was….. standing in Arthur's kitchen.

Arthur stared, dumbfounded at Oliver's back as the pink haired double hummed softly while working on something on the counter. He had an apron tied around his waist, and a pink chef's hat donned the top of his head. Was he dreaming? There was no way Oliver could really be in his kitchen, could there?

"It's been you…" Oliver jumped and squeaked in an almost comical way. Had the situation been any different, Arthur would have laughed at him. But for now…. He was confused. How the Hell was Oliver in his kitchen? The mysteries surrounding the pink haired double of his were growing thicker.

Oliver was silent as Arthur's eyes locked onto him. He looked afraid, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming semi. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but Arthur cut him off. "How the Hell are you in my kitchen?!" Oliver flinched at his tone, and he wrung his fingers together, nervously. All this time he'd been blaming Francis for the goodies left for him… All this time he'd been shagging that French bastard in thanks for food he didn't even leave him…

"I came through the mirror…" Oliver's voice sang to him, and Arthur wasn't quite certain if he was angry or horny at the other man standing in his home. Why hadn't Oliver revealed himself sooner? Why had he played this stupid game of cat and mouse? Couldn't he have just said he had the power to enter his world?

Arthur's mind was reeling. The only thing he could even think of to say was, "How long have you been coming here?" He almost didn't want to hear Oliver's answer. He was getting angrier, no… that wasn't the right word. Frustrated was better. All those nights he had longed for Oliver's touch were coming back to him.

Oliver's answer only frustrated him further. "Since we first met…" The little bastard knew he could come over her since the beginning?! And he'd teased him so mercilessly with a body he'd thought he could never touch?! Arthur took a deep breath, tried to calm himself before speaking.

"You mean to tell me that you've been able to come over here since the beginning?" Another deep breath. "And you let me believe that you couldn't?" His brows furrowed with annoyance. All those times he could have touched, could have claimed Oliver for himself….

A small nod from Oliver, then, "I… I wanted to surprise you…" Well…. this was certainly a surprise all right. The biggest one of his life. The object of his desires was standing in his kitchen. Oliver suddenly changed the subject. "I made breakfast for you…"

A loud rumble sounded from his belly as he was reminded of the delicious smelling food, and he sighed as he took a step closer to the counter. "I'll put the kettle on…" There was no point in being angry with Oliver any more for this. So many new possibilities opened up with the revelation that Oliver could be in his world.

He felt no shame that his brain turned straight to lust from this fact. He could touch Oliver, could kiss him and claim his and make him writhe beneath him. He could fuck him. He could make good use of that pretty little mouth and that tongue that kept darting out to wet the other's lips. He could rip at his clothes and bite at his skin and mark him with his lips…

Oliver was oddly quiet, almost as if he could sense Arthur's thoughts. Arthur turned to him after setting the kettle on the stove. "I meant it when I said you were mine." Oliver's eyes widened. Arthur took a step closer to him, backed him against the kitchen counter. He wouldn't allow him to escape. Not now, when he was so close. "I will have you. I will make it so you never even think about fucking that scruffy frog ever again." He was still jealous of Francis, still angry that Oliver had dared to let another touch him.

Oliver took a breath, and nervously pressed his back into the sharp edge of the counter as Arthur leaned close to him. He could feel Oliver's shaky breath on his lips and the warmth emanating from his lithe body. Oh, how he wanted to touch that body…

It seemed like he stared into Oliver's eyes for an eternity before he finally closed the space between them and connected their lips. The reaction was instantaneous. Oliver's arms wrapped around his neck, and Arthur's around his waist as their tongues danced together in a heated, desperate kiss. He felt Oliver's body press tightly against him, and fuck he was a good kisser…

He could feel his own body rapidly reacting to the unbridled passion of their lips, tongues and teeth. He bit down on Oliver's lower lip, drew it into his mouth before pulling back, his chest heaving from breathlessness. Oliver was just as bad, his cheeks a rosy pink and his body trembling.

"I'm yours…."


End file.
